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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23998321">Lonely Girl</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vixenvixen100/pseuds/vixenvixen100'>vixenvixen100</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Heavy Angst, POV Alternating, Romance, Self-Insert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:40:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,918</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23998321</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/vixenvixen100/pseuds/vixenvixen100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since your father left, you’ve been living alone. You’ve always dreamed about leaving and traveling the country, but when your dream becomes reality, you aren’t so sure.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Marston/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun was setting in West Elizabeth. It was a sight you were all too familiar with, but you loved it anyway. You patted your horse’s neck as you inhaled the beauty of Owanjila. Today went better than usual - you broke your record of deer skinned in one day and made a nice profit. You indulged yourself with beautiful fabric you’d been eyeing for a while, but the rest would be hidden away in your house. Of course, you never knew what you were saving all that money up for. Maybe one day you’d move away from this isolation imposed by losing all your family... but at least you were free. Free to swim in the river in your backyard, free to roam the forest with your beloved horse, free to make any damned choice you wanted.</p><p>But you couldn’t help but wonder how life somewhere else would be. America was huge. Maybe you could actually start your own family, or at least have friends, in New York or Saint Denis. They sounded wonderful in the books you always read in your vast free time. But maybe you had too much hope and they weren’t as great as all the books made them out to be. Your father always said you were a day dreamer...</p><p>You were jolted out of your thoughts by the sound of branches snapping. Iracema, your horse, was quickly becoming agitated. You sped her up to a trot as you pulled your gun out. The nervousness chilled your bones as an unmistakable figure breached the tree line - a bear. Before you could spur your horse, she sent you flying to the ground and ran off. </p><p>Too dazed to think properly, you grabbed your head and cursed the pain coursing through it. Your dizzy vision made it hard to spot your rifle. While you crawled to it, you turned to the bear, which was just a few steps away now. It stood up on its hind legs and roared. <em>Goddammit, of course this is how I had to die</em>, you thought. Couldn’t have been painless. </p><p>Only the sound of your heartbeat could be heard - the chirping of the birds and the wind brushing the trees were nowhere to be found. You finally reached the rifle, cocked it, and turned around- </p><p>Your ears rang as you watched a bullet penetrate the bear’s head, falling to the ground.</p><p>You didn’t hear the man’s voice for a few seconds; hell, you didn’t even realize it wasn’t you that shot the bear until you finally noticed him. Turning around, you could finally process what he was saying:</p><p>“Are you okay, miss?” He asked while he slid off his horse. The pain in your head made you squeeze your eyes shut.</p><p>“I’m fine...” you forced your eyes open, looking for Iracema, “where’s my horse?”</p><p>“I think it took off,” he spoke, “would you, uh, like me to take you to a doctor?”</p><p>“No, I... I need to go home...” you paused for a moment, finally realizing you had no horse to take you home and too dazed to think to look for her, “could you take me?”</p><p>“Are you sure? Maybe-“ </p><p>“I’m fine, really,” you interrupted, “head just hurts a little is all.”</p><p>He held his hand out and you took it. The dizziness made you feel like a newborn foal trying to stand. This wasn’t the first time you’ve fallen off a horse but you damn sure hadn’t hit your head from it before. You’re lucky you only hit it hard enough to daze you for a bit, you figured. Still hurt, though. He hadn’t agreed yet, but you wobbled your way past him to his horse anyway. </p><p>“I don’t live far, if you don’t mind,” you said as you gingerly placed a hand on the back of your head. No blood, but plenty of dirt. Ugh.</p><p>“Well... can’t leave you out here,” he said as he mounted his horse. You grabbed his outreached hand again to mount and pointed him in the direction of your home. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’re you doin’ out here by yourself?” </p><p>“Just comin’ back from town,” you replied, “sold some pelts and meat, but that horse still has some of my venison.”</p><p>“Did you hunt it?”</p><p>“I know, it’s not very ladylike, but I gotta make money somehow.”</p><p>“Better choice than some,” he scoffed as awkward silence suddenly flooded the darkening forest. It threw you off, but you thought it’d be best to change the subject.</p><p>“I realized we don’t know each other’s names,” you noted and you introduced yourself.</p><p>He was quiet for a bit. “John Ma... Milton,” he stuttered. </p><p>“I should thank you for savin’ my life, Mr. Milton. I’d be bear shit by the end of the week if you didn’t.” His only response was a chuckle. “Where’re you stayin’ at? I usually only see locals ‘round here.”</p><p>“I’m... not really stayin’ anywhere. Just travellin’.”</p><p>You wondered for a moment if you should offer him the extra room in your house. As a lady on her own, you knew it wasn’t smart to let a stranger in your home, but he didn’t seem like he’d hurt you. And if he did, you wouldn’t be missed.</p><p>“Mr. Milton, I have an extra room in my home,” you stated, “I’m not sure what your travellin’ entails, but you’re free to stay if you’d like. Least I can do.”</p><p>“You don’t have to do anything. Anybody would’ve done helped.”</p><p>“Maybe. But it’s almost night and far from any town.”</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>“I’m sure.”</p><p>A moment of silence passed again. </p><p>“If your family’s alright with it.”</p><p>“I ain’t got family, so it’s alright.”</p><p>The two of you approached the house. You felt nervous, realizing that Iracema might not make it home. <em>It wasn’t far and she’s a smart girl</em>, you convinced yourself.</p><p>“You’re okay with having a stranger stay in your home?” He asked.</p><p>“I’m hopin’ since you saved my life that you won’t take it away. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t help me.”</p><p>Both of you dismounted and headed for the cabin you were all too glad to see. John lit his lantern, holding the few belongings he had. </p><p>You kept your home clean, but it was rather bare; it had all you needed so you tried not to complain. The only visitors you had were occasionally from women your father knew, anyway. Presumably just to make sure you weren’t rotting into the floorboards. </p><p>A wave of sadness hit you when you directed him to your father’s room. It remained untouched since he left, though you made sure to clean it. At least your head wasn’t aching so much any more. You allowed him to walk ahead of you as you crossed your arms in the doorway.</p><p>“This was my father’s room. He probably ain’t comin’ back, so you can stay as long as you want,” you sighed, “just left one day and never came back. I never did hear if he died. It’s been two years so I assume he did.”</p><p>“Sorry to hear that,” he replied as he settled his things on the floor beside the bed, “I won’t stay too long.”</p><p>“No need to be. I think I’ll start on supper, if you’d like some.”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>Making your way to the kitchen, you were disappointed you couldn’t try out a new recipe you read about since you didn’t have the venison. It’d be best to make something you knew well if you were cooking for someone else, you supposed. </p><p>While you were gathering your ingredients, your father’s door creaked open as John wondered into the kitchen and sat at the dining table. It was the first time you really got a good view of his face. The soft glow of a lantern hit his rather intimidating face, cupped in his hand as he looked around the cabin. You turned back to your current task with a blushing face as you realized how attractive he was. </p><p>“You read a lot?” He asked, no doubt referring to your huge book collection. </p><p>“It’s my favorite thing to do,” you replied, “you can grab a book, if you’d like.” </p><p>You heard him walk to the bookcase as you tried to focus on cooking. Then you remembered all the romance novels you own... dammit!</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John didn’t really know what he was doing here. He should’ve just helped and left, but sleeping on nothing more than a thin sleeping bag the past few weeks made the proposition of a bed hard to argue with... he couldn’t forget what happened with Abigail. She swore Jack was his, but he knew there was a possibility that wasn’t true. He shook the thoughts away that pervaded his mind every day. </p><p>It didn’t matter. </p><p>His hands traced over the rows of books. She sure as hell liked romance. But there were plenty of other books: history novels, almanacs, cookbooks, and collections of photography. He recognized books that Hosea and Dutch used to teach him to read. </p><p>John chose a book about the fauna of West Elizabeth, settling at the table again. He could identify most of the animals, but the drawings were fascinating. </p><p>A few minutes passed and a bowl of stew was set in front of him. He closed the book and pushed it aside before he thanked her. He figured it’d be rude not to wait for her to make a bowl, too.</p><p>She sat in the only other available seat, across from him. </p><p>“Did you... wanna pray?” She asked stiffly.</p><p>“...Do you?” He countered, not really expecting that question. </p><p>“I never do, but we can if you want.”</p><p>“Neither do I. I don’t really believe in that sorta thing.”</p><p>She lightly smiled and they began eating. She interrupted John’s next spoonful with a question:</p><p>“Sorry for not offering, did you want a drink?”</p><p>“If you don’t mind.”</p><p>She looked around the small kitchen for a minute.</p><p>“Whiskey, rum, or coffee?” He chose the former. “I don’t mind makin’ coffee if you don’t really want whiskey.”</p><p>“I ain’t turning down whiskey,” he gave a small smile to her. </p><p>She smiled back as she poured two small glasses out of a half-empty bottle.</p><p>“I sure could use a drink after all that,” she chuckled a bit before she took a swig, only grimacing at the taste a little more than John did as he followed suit. “If you’d don’t mind me askin’, what’re you doin’ on your travellin’?”</p><p>He stared into his cup of whiskey as he considered her question. She seemed trustworthy enough to tell half the truth to.</p><p>“Roamin’ the country.” He paused for a moment. “Not sure where I’m goin’, really,” he ended with a shrug.</p><p>She finished her mouthful of stew before replying, “that’s somethin’ I’ve always wanted to do. I’ve lived here my whole life... it’d be a nice change, I think.”</p><p>“Been doin’ it all my life. It’s not as great as it sounds.”</p><p>“Maybe.” Her eyebrows furrowed as they continued their meal in silence. </p><p>—</p><p>John stared at the ceiling from the bed, wondering how the gang felt about him leaving without so much as a goodbye. He missed his family but he couldn’t stand to be around Abigail and that kid. It felt like Abigail was mocking him when she had him hold her baby. She thought he’d be the only one dumb enough to take the blame for someone else’s mistake, <em>her</em> mistake. So he gave the bastard something better - his spot in the gang. </p><p>He sighed at the thought. The kid wasn’t the bastard. On the small chance that Jack was his, he abandoned his child. Even if he wasn’t... John abandoned his family. Dutch, who took him off the streets, was like his father. His other father, Hosea, taught him countless of things. And his big brother and only friend for years - Arthur. He would never forgive him for abandoning the gang. Somehow, even with Dutch constantly proclaiming how important loyalty and faith was, he just didn’t get it. </p><p>Despite the constant barrage of these thoughts, he eventually managed to drift off to sleep.</p><p>— </p><p>John awoke to the smell of coffee. He opened the door and peered into the kitchen. It was still completely dark out, but the woman he helped the night before was relaxing at the dining table with a cup of coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other.</p><p>“Mornin’,” she uttered without lifting her eyes off the book on the table. “Coffee?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>He sat before she stood, noticing the huge bags under her eyes. <em>Did she even sleep?</em>, he thought as he peered down at the book and answered his own question. She could’ve only had a dozen pages left in the large book that lay between her seat and the lantern in the middle of the table. </p><p>He looked back up at her as she sat the coffee in front of him. A knock at the front door interrupted his “thanks”. He couldn’t imagine she planned on having a visitor before the sun even came up.</p><p>She faltered for a moment and peered into John’s eyes with an anxious look; the nervousness in her eyes made him sit up straight. Her anxiety was all too apparent while she shuffled to the door.</p><p>The door creaked open to reveal a man with overly-grandiose clothing, the sun slowly pouring between the trees behind him. </p><p>“G-good morning, sir,” she stuttered, “is there something I can help you with?”</p><p>“Good morning, ma’am. Could I speak with the man of the house?”</p><p>“I’m the woman of the house. Is there something you need, sir?” The man looked over her shoulder.</p><p>“Ah, sir,” he pushed his way past her into the house. “Could I speak to you, please?”</p><p>John looked at ‘the woman of the house’. She was looking outside still, unmoving.</p><p>“I’m-“ she turned to him, the nervousness in her eyes now replaced with borderline terror. “Could you give us a moment, please?”</p><p>“Of course. Women, right?” The man laughed by himself. John waited for the man to move, before it became clear he was too important to. He motioned for her to follow him into her father’s room and shut the door.</p><p>“That man... fuck, I knew he looked familiar...” she quietly cursed under her breath as she paced the room. </p><p>“Look, calm down. Who is he?” </p><p>“That fucker,” she closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Months before my father disappeared, he threatened him to sell our land. I told him how much it worried me... I trusted him when he said he took care of it, that there was nothin’ to worry about.” She sat on the bed, her voice slowly turning into a whimper. “I’m so goddamn stupid for not realizin’,” she breathed sharply as a tear ran down her cheek. “H-he killed him.”</p><p>John never knew what to do when a lady was crying. He looked at the rifle he had intended to clean before he fell asleep, carefully leaned against the wall. This time, the decision came naturally. He picked up the gun and looked at her. </p><p>“No, you can’t,” she stood quickly, “he’s got men out there!” </p><p>“How many?”</p><p>She looked him in the eyes and wiped her tear-stained face, replacing the tears with enmity. “Well...” she paused for a sniffle, “enough for us to handle,” she sniffed again. He was only allowed a few seconds to give her a confused look before she turned to the room’s wardrobe and revealed a collection of guns. “Before you say no...” she picked up a shotgun, “understand that I have to do this.”</p><p>John understood what a slighted woman was capable of. Add a gun to that... <em>I hope Abigail doesn’t come looking for me.</em></p><p>She slipped a bandolier over the shirt and jeans she still had on from yesterday as a hurried knock came from the door.</p><p>“Excuse me, sir, but I don’t have all day!” </p><p>“Just a moment!” She called as they loaded their guns.</p><p>The moment she was done, she flung the door open. John stood behind her as she held the shotgun point blank to the man’s head.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Sorry to keep you waiting!” You didn’t give him a chance to reply as the shot rung in the air. His freshly headless body hit the ground. Anger completely overtook you as you shot the other round into the man’s abdomen. You didn’t notice the blood soaking into your clothes, much less the yelling that erupted from outside. A bullet whizzed nearby into the wall behind both of you, compelling John to kick the table over and pull you behind it. Two men rushed through the front door and received matching bullet holes to the face. John’s swiftness interrupted your anger for surprise. But you knew you didn’t have time to be surprised. When he sprinted for a window, you did the same. </p>
<p>He put a hand on your shoulder as you reloaded. “Cowards are leavin’,” he remarked. You stood and looked out the window, watching the few remaining men leave. His hand gripped your shoulder and you only now noticed how hard you were shaking. Your legs felt like they were about to give out. The sight of your bedroom door prompted you to walk away and sit on your bed. John walked behind you and grabbed your gun. The sweat engulfing your body was most prominent on your palms and the newly forming tears began mixing with the sweat on your face. He handed you a cigarette but your attempts to spark a match were fruitless from your shaky hands. Even the cigarette shook from your quivering lips while you allowed him to light it for you. Tears continued to fall from your otherwise frozen face, even when your eyes were squeezed shut. You looked at him when you plucked the cigarette from your mouth. The look of pity written on his face made the tears fall faster and you snatched him into a hug. Burying your face into his jacket finally allowed you to slip out whimpers of sorrow, which quickly morphed into complete blubbering. </p>
<p>All of it happened so fast. You killed a man! He was horrid and surely deserved his fate. Of course he did, but was it revenge? Wouldn’t he have killed you if he demanded you give him your home and you refused? The thought of the carnage that transpired in your home made you internally cringe. You couldn’t imagine having to face what happened, much less getting close enough to clean it. There was something else that demanded your attention, though. The men that fled. Would they return? If they did they wouldn’t be alone; whether it was just to take your home or to exact vengeance... you knew you weren’t safe. Who knew if that man was even the one that wanted your home. It’s possible he was just some idiot hired by a rich family trying to monopolize as much land as possible. </p>
<p>There were too many questions going through your mind. It was hard enough to rationalize the few you could. At least they helped you calm down from your current panic. You were still worried, but at least you’d stopped crying and shaking. You released John and looked at his clothing. They had blood on them, but you realized your clothes had far more. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” you murmured.</p>
<p>“It’s alright.”</p>
<p>It wasn’t and you knew it. He probably knew too, but you were glad he accepted your apology. You sighed before continuing.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what I’m gonna do. They’re gonna take my home, ain’t they?”</p>
<p>“Uh-“</p>
<p>“I know... I know they will.” You sighed again. “What am I s’posed to do? I don’t got nowhere to go! I’ve lived here my whole goddamn life!” </p>
<p>You rubbed your temples and let out a breath. The two of you sat in a short silence while you mulled over your thoughts. You thought of the money you had saved up; it wasn’t much, but you couldn’t exactly be picky right now. It was still hidden under a floorboard, only accessible after you moved your wardrobe. You felt stupid for buying so many trivial books after you counted the money. Only $30 to your name. You weren’t even sure you had a horse any more. Suddenly, it didn’t seem like you’d thought the whole idea of moving away through as much as you thought you did. </p>
<p>“I gotta leave, huh?” It hurt to think, but it hurt more to say it aloud. It was even worse when he confirmed your dread. You swallowed the little bit of pride you had left to ask him another question.</p>
<p>“Could I ask you a favor?” He nodded. “Could you take me into Strawberry?”</p>
<p>“Sure.”</p>
<p>You hurriedly packed what you could while John packed his things onto his horse, which luckily stayed despite the fighting. Knowing you couldn’t afford to take much, you packed only some clothes, a couple cans of food, camping gear, and your rifle. As the two of you set off to Strawberry, you watched what used to be your home fade among the trees.</p>
<p>A few minutes pass and you try to focus on your next move. Either you buy a new horse or you make your way to the city. Of course you’d always dreamed of city life, but you knew nothing about it. What kind of job is there for a woman with no money? Did you really wanna slave away in whatever low skill job you could get? Would you even be able to find one? You didn’t realize how little thought you put in to the truly important aspects of city life. But it seemed you’d be homeless regardless of what choice you’d make. You knew this area well, like the best camping spots. </p>
<p>You recalled a place your father took you camping when you were younger. It was a beautiful little spot, west of Black Bone Forest. That’s where you’d go, you decided.</p>
<p>You arrived at the stable in Strawberry. John stood beside you as you pondered over the small selection, but you soon realized the only horse you could afford was a morgan. You’d already blew all your savings on the horse and a saddle, but you knew you’d never survive without a horse. It was disappointing that Iracema never showed up, but you had to do what was necessary. You led the little horse behind John as he went to his own.</p>
<p>He helped you move your things to your horse. You mostly watched, admittedly allured by how good his body looked. It was sad seeing him about to leave. </p>
<p>But did he have to?</p>
<p>“Um, Mr. Milton?” </p>
<p>“Hm?”</p>
<p>“Where’re you travellin’ to?”</p>
<p>“Don’t really know, honestly,” he shrugged.</p>
<p>“You plannin’ on camping somewhere?” You felt nervous to be as brash as you were about to be, but you didn’t exactly have anything to lose.</p>
<p>“Most likely.”</p>
<p>“Could I come with you?” You grew more nervous when he looked at you for the first time since the conversation began. “Uh, before you answer that, I know how to camp. You know, I hunt and-“</p>
<p>“Sure,” he cut you off. You were surprised by his answer, so much so that it took you a few seconds to respond.</p>
<p>“Well,” you cleared your throat, “I know a good camping spot, if you’re alright with that...”</p>
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